


up in space, just us two

by wpwp



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, They become friends, chani's a struggling actor slash college student, hwiyoung is a ghost, major character death because well hwi's a ghost, maybe a little more than friends towards the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wpwp/pseuds/wpwp
Summary: Kang Chanhee takes the first step into his new apartment, ready for some silence and rest, until a voice greets him.“Oh, you’re the new guy?”Snippets of Chanhee’s life with his transparent roommate.
Relationships: Kang Chanhee | Chani/Kim Youngkyun | Hwiyoung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	up in space, just us two

_[ july 19 ]_

Chanhee sighs and turns the door handle. He closes the door behind him, shaking shoes off his feet. There’s still so much he needs to do. Unpack, clean up, scrub the mold off his bathroom sink… He just wants some sleep before class later this afternoon. At least here he has silence.

“Oh, you’re the new guy?”

Or not. Chanhee looks for the source of the voice and finds a boy sitting on his dusty couch. Their eyes meet, and the unknown boy tilts his head back in surprise. Who? What? _I’m the one who’s supposed to be shocked here,_ Chanhee wants to say. How did the boy even get here? The only keys available are either attached to his door (which it is!) or held safe by the landlady.

Upon closer inspection, Chanhee notices how the unknown boy’s eyes shine even though all the lights are off. His brown hair that reaches the shoulders don’t reflect sunlight seeping through the windows. His feet are transparent on the floor. No toes, no ankles, just a shadow of lines on the carpet.

A ghost. Not a boy. A ghost. Chanhee’s apartment is haunted.

Chanhee sighs. It’s not surprising there’s something wrong with this place, considering the cheap rent despite its decent facilities. He’s never seen a ghost before, but apparently this boy isn’t scary, so Chanhee supposes he should just learn to live with it. He can’t afford to move again, not when he has to pay for more acting classes, sponsor himself for auditions, and also pay for his own college tuition. He just hopes the ghost doesn’t bother him. He likes being alone. (A voice in his head says _no you don’t, you’re just scared of people,_ but Chanhee doesn't want to listen to it.)

 _Okay. Ignoring it is._ Chanhee walks away from his porch and goes to his room. If the ghost doesn’t know he can see it, nothing will happen. Little poltergeists or lamps going on and off is okay as long as it doesn't bother him too much.

But apparently that’s not what the ghost wants, because it rises from the couch and waddles closer to Chanhee. _God, who runs like that?_ Chanhee forgets to surpress his laugh.

“You can’t see me? Can you? Can’t you?” the ghost stands in front of Chanhee, looking him in the eyes. It’s quite tall, its eyes looking down at Chanhee’s from a few inches above him. Or is that just because it’s floating?

Chanhee turns his eyes everywhere except its direction and moves away. _Ignore, ignore._

“Holy shit, you can see me.”

 _Fuck_. “No I can’t.”

“You’re answering me!” the ghost walks in front of Chanhee again. It smiles so wide there are crinkles around its eyes. “Wow! Wow, finally, someone I can talk to! I’ve been _so_ bored!”

Finally Chanhee faces the ghost, gritting his teeth. “Hey. Yeah, I can see and hear you”—the ghost jumps in delight, screaming _yesss yes yes_ —“but can you, like, not talk to me?”

The light dims so quickly in the ghost’s eyes, Chanhee almost feels guilty. “It’s just, well, I rent this apartment to get away from people. Or from any _thing_ that talks too much, whatever it is. And if you keep pestering me then it’s all for nothing,” he quickly explains. He’s giving excuses… to a ghost. Why isn’t he freaking out, he wonders.

The ghost is silent for a few seconds, but then it nods. “Okay.”

 _Okay?_ “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay!” it says. “So, I don’t bother you, you don’t bother me?”

“Um… yeah. If that’s okay with you?”

“Sure, sure. But I’m not a thing. I’m a ghost, you know?” the ghost frowns, its— _his_ —finger jabbing Chanhee’s chest accusatorially. “Used to be a person. Just like you.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, I’m sorry,” Chanhee mumbles, looking down. Why is his life getting more and more ridiculous day by day? 

“Well, see you around, then.” The ghost walks back to the couch. “Roommate.”

_[ september 2 ]_

It’s actually quite comfortable with the ghost around. He doesn’t talk to Chanhee except occasional _stay safe_ s and _welcome back_ s whenever Chanhee’s about to leave or when he comes back. Chanhee has become used to saying _‘m home_ and _bye-bye_ , too.

Maybe he likes having a roommate.

Nah, he likes having _the ghost_ as his roommate.

_[ september 8 ]_

Annoying.

The whole class is annoying. How do they expect students to turn in this assignment in three days when it needs so much research? Does the professor think other courses don’t exist? Does she think students don’t have a life and other obligations outside of campus?

Chanhee’s worn out script is nestled between his course notes and other printouts he needs. The script has tears here and there, bright highlights where his name shows up, doodles in the empty spaces. He’s read that too many times, but he can’t remember the whole thing yet. He needs time to practice.

Fuming, Chanhee turns back to the document in front of him. The clock in the corner of his laptop shows that it’s almost 4 am. He needs sleep, but _what if you finish this late and not be able to practice, what if, what if_. His eyes flutter closed a few times and whenever he focuses again, the document is a mess of typos and errors. _Focus._

“Hey, hey.”

_Focus._

“Dude, hey.”

The ghost’s voice gets closer to Chanhee’s ears. _Focus. But sleep. Sleep…_

“HEY!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Chanhee snaps. He can’t even see the ghost’s face, half-lidded eyes taking in his laptop screen in a blur. “Will you stop it? I don’t care if you curse me or kill me or anything but can you not do it now? I have too many assignments to finish right now and I still haven’t memorized all my lines for the shoot next week yet. I have too many things to do, I can’t deal with this whole ghost bullshit right now.”

Silence. Chanhee hasn’t raised his head yet.

Did the ghost leave?

“I’m sorry,” the ghost mumbles.

Chanhee looks up from his laptop. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry.” The ghost hangs its head in shame. “I really didn’t mean to make you mad. I just thought you needed some cheering up, you know!”

 _What_.

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’m… fine.”

“You’re stressed,” the ghost points out, gesturing at Chanhee’s desk.

“I _am_. I’ll get these done in a bit if you need to talk.”

The ghost frowns. “I don’t need to talk, man. I need you to relax. So leave that for five minutes and take some deep breaths.” His translucent hand grabs Chanhee’s— _it’s cold._ Chanhee can’t feel the skin but there’s a cold sensation where their hands touch—and the ghost tries to drag Chanhee to bed. Of course he can’t pull anything, his hand just goes through Chanhee’s. He sighs in frustration.

Chanhee wants to ask _why do you even care_ but he doesn’t have enough energy to, so he drags his feet to bed as he’s asked. Just a little rest. Maybe five minutes of rest can help him focus again. The bed feels like cloud when he lays down.

The ghost hums something that sounds like a lullaby, but Chanhee only hears ten seconds of it before drifting off to dreamless sleep.

_[ september 16 ]_

“So, so, what’s your name?” The ghost asks when they’re sitting opposite of each other in the dining table. Chanhee’s started to let the ghost do whatever he wants now. They’ve spoken to each other more these days, the ghost asking if anything interesting happened during the day, Chanhee asking the ghost about their neighbors’ interesting gossip.

“Name’s Chanhee.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Ah, we’re the same age!” The ghost claps.

“Really?”

“I think so, I died twenty.”

“And how long ago was that?” Chanhee takes another bite of his chicken.

“About a year ago, maybe?”

“Did you die here? Is that why this place is so cheap?”

“Yeah. Can I have a taste of your dinner?”

“What? Huh?” The _how_ Chanhee manages to swallow back down, realizing how insenstive it might sound. The ghost doesn’t react nor does he explain his nonchalant admittance of dying in the house. Was he alone? Was it an accident? Did someone rob him, or did he… Chanhee licks his lips, trying to clear the atmosphere. The ghost is still staring at his takeout. “Well, just… take it, I guess. Can ghosts even eat?”

“Not sure. It just looks delicious.” The ghost smiles until his gums show and the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

Chanhee thinks he’s never seen a smile as pretty as that. He stabs a piece of chicken with a fork and pushes it in front of the ghost’s face, smiling back. “Say aaah.”

_[ october 1 ]_

It’s a binging-five-seasons-in-one-sitting kind of night. The storm rages outside, winds howling and slamming windows, cold air seeping inside even with the heater turned on. Chanhee and the ghost nestled themselves in each corner of the couch, sitting side by side in front of their TV. Chanhee tried sharing his own blanket with his ghost roommate, but it just phases through.

They’re chatty as they go through episode by episode, making snide remarks at every ridiculous thing each character does. The ghost talks more, retorting on everything, and somehow Chanhee enjoys his funny commentary.

Another episode ends, and the ghost turns to grab Chanhee’s shoulder. “Believe me, Chanhee! That guy’s gonna die next episode.”

Chanhee likes the way the ghost calls his name. He doesn’t do it often, he just calls Chanhee dude or man or you all the time. Chanhee didn’t tell him his name for him to not use it!

“Pretty sure he won’t. We’re not even near the season finale yet.” He shrugs, not really thinking about the series anymore. Why doesn’t the ghost call him by name more often? Is it because Chanhee doesn’t call _him_ by name, too? “Come to think of it, I never asked for your name.”

“I don’t remember what it is,” the ghost says, tearing his eyes away from the screen and facing Chanhee instead. “What do you want to call me?”

“I wouldn’t know! It’s _your_ name.”

The ghost is quiet for a moment, contemplating. He seems to be trying to remember whatever past memories he can dig out. His nose scrunched and lips pouted, Chanhee finds him quite cute. He should probably stop finding a ghost cute this many times, so he shakes the thought away.

“Then… Hwiyoung,” the ghost finally says.

“You said you don’t remember, so whose name is that?”

“It’s mine. I feel like it’s mine, but it’s not my real name.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Chanhee retorts. “But your existence itself doesn’t make sense, so I’ll accept it until you remember the real one.”

“Aw, thanks,” the ghost—nope, Hwiyoung—rolls his eyes sarcastically. “Now start the next episode, I wanna see if the guy really dies.”

Chanhee presses play on the remote and tries (and fails) to drape his blanket on Hwiyoung’s shoulder once more. (Hwiyoung laughs at that and scoots closer to Chanhee so their shoulders touch.)

Hwiyoung. Hwiyoung sounds pretty.

_[ december 23 ]_

Hwiyoung’s presence is calming. Chanhee does his work, clicking through online quizzes from his lecturers until midnight, and Hwiyoung keeps him company. They lie side by side on the bed, Chanhee on his stomach and still doing his assignments and Hwiyoung has his head on Chanhee’s back. There’s no weight where his head rests, Chanhee notices. Only a cold breeze that comes and goes whenever Hwiyoung moves.

Snow falls outside, white drops against the black sky. Nights like this one are common. Hwiyoung likes to hum songs Chanhee doesn’t recognize, but his voice is pleasant and sweet. Better than the lo-fi music his friends say helps with studying. The apartment heater buzzes every now and then, leaving the air warm except for the place where Hwiyoung lies down. 

“I’m done, finally,” Chanhee grunts as he clicks the last submit button. “Gonna sleep.”

Hwiyoung gets up and the constant chill on Chanhee’s back is gone. Chanhee can’t tell if he’s relieved for the sudden warmth of the air or if he actually liked the lack of it better.

“Well. Great job finishing it before morning! Good night,” Hwiyoung says as he starts apparating through the wall, his left arm already disappearing.

“Dude, wait.”

“Hm?”

Chanhee closes his laptop and places it on his desk. “Where do you sleep?”

“Do you really think ghosts sleep?”

“You seem like the type.”

“The type to sleep a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re saying that as if you’re not,” Hwiyoung snickers. Chanhee laughs, agreeing. “You’re not wrong, though. I think I did spent most of my twenty years sleeping. I don’t need to sleep now, so I just… doze off. Separate my mind and body. Not that I have a body. I just don’t know what to do at times when I’m ‘supposed to be sleeping’.”

Hwiyoung has a quarter of his body in the wall, still unmoving. The ridiculousness of it all makes Chanhee smile. “Do you want to sleep here?” he offers.

“Like, on the bed?” Hwiyoung furrows his brows, stepping away from the wall and closer to Chanhee.

“Yeah. Better than just floating around, right?”

Hwiyoung hesitates for a second, but he plops down on the covers anyway. “You sure I can sleep on your bed?”

“What’s wrong with that? You were lying down here right before too. And it’s not like it’s cramped, you’re untouchable after all.” Chanhee starts arranging the pillows, one on each half of the bed, and once he’s done he throws himself back. “You can sleep on that side.”

Hwiyoung complies and lies next to Chanhee. He shakes his head in amusement when Chanhee offers him to share a blanket, reminding the other boy that they already tried this during their movie nights. Once settled, two face each other, head supported by their arms.

It’s quiet now, typical of a snowing night. The heater is buzzing again.

“You were singing something before you were about to leave,” Chanhee says. “What song was that? It’s pretty.”

“It’s my song. I have some more, do you want to hear?” Hwiyoung says, his small smile shows that he’s not expecting anything.

“That would be a nice lullaby.”

“O-oh,” Hwiyoung stutters. “Wow, yeah. Um. Because it’s my song. Yeah. I’m just talented like that, aren’t I?”

Chanhee chuckles at his friend’s nervousness. “Yeah, you are. So, sing me to sleep?”

**Author's Note:**

> the title and chapter titles are all lyrics of poem; 00:00! they'll alternate povs according to the person singing the lyrics in the chapter title haha


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